Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Sunday dawned with a deep blanket of snow. I’d had a restless night, befuddled by champagne and confusion; after Penn had stalked away, I hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night. When I asked Sophia where he was, she told me he’d complained of a headache and gone up early to bed. I strongly suspected the headache in question was me.
I decided not to go to breakfast, and instead stayed under the covers, eating a bag of Quavers that I’d found in the depths of my handbag. I stared out the window, sprinkling the mangled crisp crumbs into my mouth.
What had happened last night? The reaction I’d had to Penn defending me started to seem excessive in the cold light of day. While I still believed I could have handled it myself, I remembered the intense way he’d looked at me before I’d stared him down, and how I’d never know what he’d wanted to say when he called me back. And a memory kept swimming back into my mind, one which should have been an unpleasant reminder of Gus. But when I thought back to Penn tearing Gus’s jacket from my body, all I could picture was the sensation of being undressed by him. Unexpected fantasies that merged the kiss we’d had in the ballroom with the idea of him taking off the jacket then slipping the straps of my dress from my shoulders… I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Later in the morning, there was a soft tap at the door.
‘Annie?’ It was Bertie.
I sat up abruptly, Quaver bits scattering down my chest.
‘Yes?’ I replied, my voice gravelly.
‘Are you coming to Silly Sunday? It’s just we’ll be off in half an hour and nobody’s seen you.’
Was I going? Or did I just want to hide in here until it was time to go home? Sadly, I had no more ancient foodstuffs in my bag, and I did have a purpose here after all. No matter what had happened the previous night, I wasn’t one to welch on a deal. And I hoped there would be lunch.
‘Yeah,’ I shouted. ‘I’ll be along as soon as I can.’
‘Righto. See you out front.’ Footsteps padded away down the corridor.
After a super-quick shower, I dressed in warm clothes and headed downstairs. The whole party was assembled on the snowy courtyard, where several vehicles were waiting, engines rumbling. Penn’s entire family appeared to be taking part, as well as Sophia and some of last night’s guests. Thankfully, Gus was nowhere in sight.
Penn was standing by one of the Defenders, an envelope in hand, just like some of the other participants. The sight of him caused ripples in my stomach that were definitely not because I’d skipped breakfast. He gave me a nod and then focused on Hugh, who’d called for everyone’s attention.
‘Listen in, listen in!’ he said. ‘Now, we’re going to press ahead with the treasure hunt as planned, in spite of the appalling weather. That’s what these are built for after all.’ He patted the bonnet of a nearby Land Rover. ‘Inside your envelopes is the first clue. Each location will give you a clue to the following one, and so on. Everyone’s due back by four thirty, and there will be penalties for late returners. So, let’s see who the honoured recipient of Papa’s welly boot will be this year!’
Everyone coupled up, two per car, and, of course, Penn and I were assigned as team-mates. I hoisted myself into the car and we waited our turn to depart, sitting in silence. Clearly, he was as preoccupied with last night as me, but I didn’t imagine it was for the same reason. When it was our time to go, Penn instructed me to open the envelope.
‘It says, If you need to spend a penny, here’s as good a place as any; don’t forget to turn the lock, or you might give the town a shock .’
‘Public loos in the village,’ said Penn lazily. ‘They did the same clue two years ago. Seems Dad’s getting a bit slack.’
‘Right. Well, it’s a good job you’re here to figure these out. I’m not going to be a lot of use.’
‘Mmhm.’ Penn seemed to be in complete agreement.
‘Shouldn’t I drive if you’re solving the clues?’
‘It’s fine,’ he said.
‘Okay.’ I sat back in the seat and said nothing else, feeling like I was with a monosyllabic taxi driver, for all the camaraderie in the vehicle. Thankfully, beyond the grounds of the hall, the roads were gritted and the snow was thinner and easier to traverse.
We shortly arrived in the village to see Sophia’s car speeding off. She blew a cheeky kiss from the passenger window. Penn pulled up at the public conveniences, I got out and took a picture of the next clue with my phone and we headed out again in the same direction as Sophia.
‘ Where poppies lie for fallen men, you’ll find yourself on course again; an ecclesiastic name is sure to help you win the game. I’m guessing this is a war memorial?’
‘Top marks. There’s one in the next village. Let’s go.’
We trundled off again, winding through lanes until we came to a square with a monolith in the centre, names carved onto all four sides. We both roamed its perimeter, searching for inspiration.
‘Ha!’ I said, pointing to one of the carvings. ‘What about this one? A soldier called A. Church. Northumberland Fusiliers. A. Church – that’s an ecclesiastical name if I ever heard one. So I’m guessing the next destination is exactly that – a church.’
Penn nodded, looking gratifyingly impressed. ‘I think you’ve got it. Question is, which one.’
‘One in every village, I presume?’
‘Yep. Come on then – we’ll check this one first.’
The church in the village where we’d solved the riddle had no sign of a clue, so we hopped back in the car and set off again. Eventually, three villages later, we found a church with another clue taped to the door and carried on the hunt. Before long, I was eagerly jumping out of the vehicle at each stop like a woman possessed.
‘You’re enjoying this then?’ asked Penn as we drove away from an old pub bearing a clue in the form of a blue plaque, stating that a semi-famous playwright had been born there.
‘I want that welly boot more than I thought I would,’ I said, grinning. The uncomfortable silences from earlier seemed to have eased off now. Whatever had passed between us the night before felt of less consequence, and we’d resumed our usual near-tolerance of one another.
His eyebrows lifted. ‘I did not predict that when we headed out. You’re way more competitive than I realised.’
‘Really? Do you not work in the same shop as me? I thought you’d have seen my ambitious side by now.’
‘That’s a fair point.’ A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
We drove on, racking up the correct guesses, until we stopped for a very late lunch. We’d been so absorbed in the game that we’d almost forgotten the packed lunch on the back seat of the car. There was a flask of hot coffee back there too, so we clinked our enamelled cups together and chewed cheese-and-pickle sandwiches in amiable silence.
‘Do you think we’re winning?’ I asked. Since seeing Sophia, we hadn’t bumped into any of the other cars on our route.
‘It’s hard to say. Like I said, everyone takes it pretty seriously, so we’ll find out when we get back.’
‘Do you think there’ll be many more clues?’
‘Not too many more, I don’t think.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’ve done well, and it’s nearly three p.m. I think we’re nearly there – let’s crack on.’
I clapped my hands then flicked on the radio. We’d driven in silence up until then, but I was now feeling more buoyed up with excitement, caffeine and food. Britney Spears drifted out of the speakers. Penn rolled his eyes and reached for the dial to switch to another station, but I put my hand over his. He glanced at me, smiled and shook his head patiently, and we drove on to the sweet sounds of ‘… Baby One More Time’ . And that’s when things began to go wrong.
‘Well, that’s the deadline come and gone,’ grumbled Penn as we trundled down a country lane in near darkness. Hours had gone by since we’d found our last clue, and having no idea what it meant, we’d been driving aimlessly around the wilds of Northumberland.
‘Are you sure you don’t have an Uncle Eustace somewhere back in your family tree? Is an Uncle Eustace a type of plant? Or is it an upper-class euphemism for something?’
Penn grimaced. ‘If it’s any of those things, I’ve got no idea. And I’m fairly sure it’s not a euphemism. This clue makes no sense.’
‘Uncle Eustace, Uncle Eustace. Wasn’t there a Eustace in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ? Ooh, could it be Turkish delight?’
‘Can you see any sweet shops around here?’ said Penn, gesturing to the barren landscape, the snowy fields pale grey in the gathering moonlight.
‘I suppose not. I was just making a suggestion.’ I didn’t bother to hide my huffiness. We’d clearly strayed well off the trail and neither of us had any idea how to get back on it.
‘Listen,’ Penn said, pulling into a passing place, ‘I think we should just go back to the house. We’ve lost anyway, so there’s no point in flogging a dead horse.’
‘Absolutely not!’ I snapped. ‘We’ve come this far. This could be the very last clue for all we know. I’m not going to give up this easily – if we’re going to miss the deadline, then we should at least go back with our heads held high.’
‘Annie, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid game.’
‘It matters to me.’ I crossed my arms and stared out the window, my teeth gritted together. Penn’s family already thought I was an outsider – an unwelcome one to some of them. I refused to give them another reason to think I’d failed at fitting in. The Ashcliffe Hall Silly Sunday tradition wouldn’t better me.
He sighed. ‘Okay. But I’ll need you to drive. My parents will be starting to worry, so I’d best give them a call.’
‘Fine.’ We got out and switched seats. As I walked around the Defender, I noticed that the snow had become thicker underfoot. More had begun to fall, dusting the windscreen with crisp flakes. I turned on the wipers and pulled out of the passing place.
‘Just head on the way we’re going for now,’ said Penn, tapping at his phone. ‘There’s one place out here we haven’t tried. It’s a holiday rental of ours – not that I can imagine what Uncle Eustace would have to do with it, but we might as well check it out while we’re up here.’
‘Okay. Maybe Uncle Eustace was the company that fitted the bathrooms?’
‘God willing,’ he murmured. ‘The sooner we find out, the sooner we can get home. Ugh. I can’t get a signal.’ He dropped his phone into his lap and stared out front.
We drove on for ten minutes more, until we came to a farm-style gate. Penn hopped out and unlatched it – the sign on the gate read ‘Upland Lodge’, and in the near distance, I could see the dark outline of a squat building. He got back in, and we rumbled over a cattle grid and up the long lane. About halfway up, the snow on the ground had started to bank up, narrowing the already small single-track road.
‘Steady,’ said Penn as I slowed down to a tentative crawl. ‘But not too slow, or we’ll lose traction.’
I put my foot to the accelerator again.
‘Not that fast!’ he yelled.
‘Fuck’s sake, Penn!’ I said, whipping round to speak to him. ‘Which of those do you want?’
‘Careful!’ he shouted, and I turned back to see that I’d veered off course and was heading towards the edge of the lane. I grabbed the wheel tighter and swerved back, but the wheels skidded and bounced over the grass verge into the edge of the field. With a crump, the Defender wedged nose-first into a massive drift of snow.
Both of us were speechless for a second. Then Penn well and truly found his voice.
‘Annie! I told you to be careful!’ he yelled.
‘I was being careful until you started distracting me with all your “instructions”.’
‘Which you didn’t listen to.’
‘I did! And they were ridiculous.’
He rounded on me. ‘No, this is ridiculous! It’s an off-road vehicle, but this isn’t what the manufacturer meant.’
‘Ha bloody ha. Just be quiet and let me sort it.’
I shoved the gearstick into reverse and tried to back out, wheels spinning. The car wouldn’t budge, despite all my determination to prove Penn wrong.
‘Let me try,’ said Penn impatiently, and I reluctantly got out and let him have a go. All that achieved was another spray of snow from the back wheels and a faint whiff of burned clutch. He crossed his arms over the top of the steering wheel, bent his forehead to them and gave a groan of frustration.
‘The front wheels are too wedged in, and the back ones aren’t getting enough traction. It’s going to need to be dug out. Or hauled out by a tractor.’
‘Okay, well let’s just ring…’
‘No signal, remember?’ He waved his useless phone.
I checked mine too – nothing.
‘What about the cottage?’ I asked, pointing to the stone building a few hundred yards down the lane. ‘Can we get on the Wi-Fi?’
He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately for us, this place is billed as a digital-detox getaway. The guests get an old Nokia for emergencies when they arrive, but it’s unoccupied, as you can probably tell. The phone will be back at Ashcliffe.’
The cottage was as dark as the night sky, but standing in the freezing snow, cold water trickling into my boots, I wanted to be inside it. Penn seemed to read my mind.
‘Come on. Let’s get ourselves warm. I think we’ll have to stay here tonight and then we could maybe walk out and try and get a phone signal when it’s light tomorrow.’
We trudged up to the door, where Penn tapped a code into a small lockbox to retrieve the key, and we went inside.
‘Let’s hope Uncle Eustace isn’t the resident ghost,’ I said as I crossed the threshold.